Locked In Way Down
by xyber116
Summary: Red and Lizzie talk at the end of two years and Red reveals the truth about why he turned himself in.


A/N: A **HUGE** thanks to Valantha for betaing this because all of my fics this year have been about shows she has either not watched or wasn't a big fan of. I'm sincerely hoping that what I have written is not what they have planned because that would be so lazy on the writers part. Title is a lyric from 'Citizens' by Alice Russell. I really believe that Red isn't her father because she was 14 when he left. You would clearly remember him if you were that old.

* * *

They were capturing the 50th criminal now and two years had passed since Tom, well not really Tom, was arrested for the murder of the Russian in Boston. Tom's betrayal became notorious within the FBI and Elizabeth had become famous for all the wrong reasons. Red had been right when he said she would be famous but the only problem was that he wasn't the one to make her distinguished.

He had promised he was going to protect her and that was exactly what he did. Everytime they went out together, he always hovered watchfully. Maybe he was the one that got them into tight spots, but he always got them out. Sometimes not easily. On a few occasions his silver tongue had failed to outwit an opponent and he ended up with a fist in his face. Elizabeth secretly prized those moments. It let her know Red was human. He could fail as any normal human and that he cared about her to put himself in danger.

With their latest adventure, as she had come to call them because they weren't cases and he was not her official partner, wrapped up, Red had retired to his hideout of the week and she to her post-Tom home.

An hour later, she received a call from the devil himself.

"We can't be looking for another criminal already?" she jokingly asked. "I've barely put my feet up."

"No, nothing work related," Red answered. "I've stumbled onto the last bottle of the home-made alcohol and wondered if would like to join me?"

"Of course," she answered easily. Somehow they had become drinking buddies over the last two years and it mostly had to do with Tom's betrayal. "Give me 30 minutes and I'll be right there. And Red?"

"Yes?" he asked.

"Don't you dare open it without me," she said in all seriousness.

He just chuckled before hanging up the phone. She was out the door and on the road in less than 10 minutes. The drive was relatively easy this time of day when you considered it was Washington DC after all.

Dembe was at the front door waiting for her and greeted her when she was at the bottom of the steps. She had gotten to know the man over the last two years and found him to be intensely loyal to Red, and stoic, but surprisingly lovely. He was the typical silent strong type but his eyes expressed his deep soft side.

"Dembe," she greeted back. "He didn't open the bottle did he?"

"No ma'am. He mentioned that you might actually hurt him if he did," he answered with the slightest of smiles.

"He's very correct," she said as she walked through the front door.

"Good god woman!" Red yelled from the living room. "You don't have to harass Dembe. I didn't open it." He held up the bottle for her to inspect as she sat down next to him.

In the beginning, she had sat on the far side of the couch and nearly on the edge of the seat. She felt uneasy those first few months when she came here. Not that Red had ever done anything but she was having drinks with a criminal. Then probably six months into their drinking routine she decided to sit in the middle. Red was surprised externally but was most likely pleased inside. Elizabeth had reasoned to herself that she didn't like talking across the couch. The other reason, which probably shouldn't count as a reason to sit closer to Red, was that when she was drunk, his face was so damn fascinating when he spoke. It was like it held all the secrets of the universe in it. And if she sat all the way across the couch with a few drinks in her she couldn't see as well and she would have to squint. She hated squinting.

"Okay, so you didn't. Thank you," she said with a pleasant hum. When he continued to hold the bottle out to her, she raised an eyebrow in question.

"You open it this time as it's the last," he spoke.

"But you always open it," she protested.

"Yes, well this is a special occasion and you deserve to do the honors," he said with an honesty he reserved only for her.

"Alright then" she said as she took the bottle from him. The top was screwed was on fairly tight but she gripped firmly and twisted hard. The slight hiss of pressure releasing indicated that she was successful. Red already had the "drinking" jars on the table and she proceeded to pour full glasses for the both of them. Red picked up his jar and began a toast.

"To the number 50. A good solid number of criminals Lizzie," he said and then took a gulp of the hooch. He didn't even give her enough time to add her own salutation or clink her glass with his which had her a little upset.

"And to the next 50," she quietly said to herself.

But apparently not quietly enough, because the next words out of his mouth stunned her.

"Well, we'll see about that," he said copying her softness.

"What does that mean Red?" she asked, turning her full attention to him.

"I think," he began before taking another sip of false courage, "That now is the time for the truth Lizzie."

"Red," she said taking his hand. "You don't have to do this right now. I'm happy. I've come to peace with the fact that you might not share everything with me. We've reached a very good balance and I don't want to ruin it."

"I know Lizzie," he said with a small sad smile while squeezing her hand. "I never planned for things to go this way. I'm an expert on getting people to do what I want and when I want but I never expected for you to get so far under my skin."

"Red, what do you mean?" she found herself whispering.

"That I care for you Lizzie. I may have been obsessed with you from the start but now at this point, I sincerely care about you," he said with the same sad smile. "You asked me long ago why? Why you? And I told you it was because of your father."

"Yes, I remember," she said.

"And I told you it was much more complicated than any of those question you were asking," he said as his eyes moved from her face to a point on the wall. "Your father is the reason that I came to the FBI and came to know about you. Your father, Lizzie, was a Russian spy."

Red heard Lizzie inhale sharply but was determined to push on.

"I came to know about him while I was working in Naval Intelligence. But it's also how I found out my wife was a Russian spy," Red said then took another gulp of alcohol. It hurt even all these years later. "Your father was my wife's handler."

"Oh," was the only sound from Elizabeth.

"Yes, oh," Red said. "I was questioning everything about my life. Did my wife ever love me? Was my daughter mine? So many questions and so few answers."

"I'm sorry Red," Elizabeth said and squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"I had been on assignment right before Christmas in 1990 and I didn't have time to get back home to get to my daughter. The Navy wasn't interested in doing anything about it which upset me even more. When I did get home, she had completely packed up along with my daughter which is why I disappeared. At that point I wasn't trying to become a criminal. I was simply after my daughter. I wanted her back desperately," he said with tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

"Red," said Elizabeth as she reached up and turned his face towards her. He looked almost right through her. "Was my father the one to give the order to your wife to leave?"

"Yes, but I didn't find that out until years later. Very much later," he said turn his gaze away again. "I tried to track her down and spent four years doing it. When I finally did find her, my daughter wasn't with her."

"The Stewmaker," Elizabeth sighed. "I always assumed he had hurt someone very close to you."

"Yes, well, now you know for sure," Red said and finished the rest of the alcohol in his glass. He leaned forward to pour more and offered it to Elizabeth after. She hadn't touched her jar since after the toast.

"Why did the Stewmaker become involved?" she heard herself asking.

"According to my wife, her past life had caught up with her. Prior to coming to America as a spy, she had run some very dangerous ops in Nicaragua where some drug cartel leader had been killed. His family was looking for revenge. It took them 10 long years and a worldwide search to find her," he chuckled at little. It was full of sadness. "I guess she had considered disobeying your father's orders to leave but when the cartel showed up she left for Russia. But not before the cartel snatched my daughter."

"Why didn't she stay and try to rescue her daughter?" Elizabeth asked.

"I asked the same question when I had my gun pointed at her head," Red said with coldness. "She claimed she had no resources for the fight. Your father refused to help and so did any of her supposed friends and contacts. She just up and left at that point."

"Red, I can only say I'm sorry so much before it becomes pointless, but I am sorry," she said.

"I know Lizzie, I know," he said reaching for her hand. "I killed her. In cold blood, in Russia. I imagine she's buried somewhere over there but you never know with all the chaos that was going on in 1994. Russia's the only place I haven't been back to in all the years since."

"What did you do after you killed her? Is that when you reemerged as a criminal?" she prompted.

"Yes," was the only thing he said. He took another sip of the alcohol and he figured he would be drunk by the end of this conversation. Or at least he hoped so. "I wanted to destroy the people that destroyed my life. The only way I knew to get into that world was to become one. I shut myself off and set my sights on taking everyone down."

"How long did it take you to figure out who my father was?" Elizabeth asked.

"Before I killed my wife she told me everything but she didn't know the assumed name of her handler. Only that he couldn't have lived very far from where we lived since drops or contact were close to home. It was the only clue I had to go on," Red said with some distaste lining his voice. "That's when I started dealing in knowledge. What I had learned in Naval Intelligence was valuable and I used it to get more information until I finally found your father."

"That's why he disappeared. It wasn't because of the fire he started. It was because he knew you were close to catching him," Elizabeth stated.

"I'm not sure that's the whole story. I believe he set the fire to destroy whatever he had in the house because he didn't want me to get my hands on it. Do you remember who pulled you out of the burning house?" he asked.

"No … no," Elizabeth said shaking her head. "I remember my father holding me down and pressing the iron against my wrist. I remember the heat and the smoke. But then it's mostly a blur until I was in the back of the ambulance. Why do you ask?"

"I was there that night," he admitted. "I'm guessing I showed up about 20 minutes after he set the fire because the upper story was completely engulfed. I wouldn't have even gone in if your mother hadn't been outside unconscious. I knew he had a wife and daughter so I began to look for you but I couldn't find you so I ran inside. Against my better judgement really. But there you were, on the living room floor. I pulled you out before the firefighters arrived."

"Red," she said barely audible. She only clutched his hand more. All this time he had promised to protect her and he had been doing it since she was 14. "You… you," she didn't even know how to finish what she wanted to say.

"It's okay," he said pulling her into his embrace. "I'm sorry this is how everything has come about."

"Thank you," she said pulling back enough to place a kiss on his cheek.

"You shouldn't say that just yet, Lizzie." he said once again moving his gaze from her to the wall. "You haven't heard the rest."

"Then let me tell it," she said and he brought his eyes back to her. "You spent the next decade following and observing me to lure my father out of whatever hole he stuck himself in. Am I correct so far?"

"Yes," he said.

"You showed up at the FBI to get to him. Hoping that he would show up to warn me about you or something and you would be there to grab him. But he hasn't shown up for two years. He probably never will and now you don't know what to do with yourself," she said with the profiler in her coming out. Red nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. "But it's okay. You have me and we can keep catching the bad guys of the world. You have no idea how much fun I've had the last two years."

"You can't say that Lizzie," Red began but was interrupted by her speaking.

"Your wife's betrayal is why you were so understanding and caring when I found out about Tom. But you didn't know before, did you?" she asked.

"No," he said. "If I had I probably would have done something about it. He didn't play into my plans."

"Do you think my father sent him?" she asked.

"Possibly, but I would venture not," he said taking one more drink. "Even though Russia is an 'ally,' they aren't above gathering intelligence in the US's backyard and in anyway they can."

"Is that everything you wanted to tell me?" she asked.

"Yes," he said finishing off his second jar of alcohol. He wasn't drunk but certainly on his way to it.

"I don't hate you," she said. "I forgive you."


End file.
